


call it magic

by knoxoursavior



Category: DCU
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, Magic, Threesome - M/M/M, bottom!bruce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:50:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knoxoursavior/pseuds/knoxoursavior
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I can explain.”</p>
<p>Bruce blinks, tries not to think too hard about why he’s not even surprised to see two Supermans hovering over the Batcave’s floor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	call it magic

**Author's Note:**

> commission for [shipsneversink](http://shipsneversink.tumblr.com/)! also read over by [nsanchezfw](http://nsanchezfw.tumblr.com/) aaah thank you!!

“I can explain.”

Bruce blinks, tries not to think too hard about why he’s not even surprised to see two Supermans hovering over the Batcave’s floor. He suppresses a sigh. This was supposed to be his one Alfred-enforced night off. Granted, it mostly just means he’s not in his Batman suit as he reviews casefiles, but it’s a night off for the Batman all the same.

“Explain.”

Both Clarks hunch their shoulders. “Mxyzptlk.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows, expectant.

“He said I was looking a little frustrated. He said that maybe I needed to _see for myself_ ,” Clark says, sounding a touch offended. “I’m fine! Of course I’d be frustrated. He appeared just when I was about to eat ice cream. Bruce, he made me drop my cookie dough ice cream on a _dog_.”

Of course. Bruce turns back to the computer, resigning himself to accepting that magic exists and makes his life a hundred times more difficult. One month ago, Klarion turned Damian into a cat. At the end of it, Alfred got a lot of pictures of Damian sleeping on Dick’s head, Damian cuddling with Titus, and Damian attacking Tim.

 Just one week ago, Dick got himself stuck to a table because of a trick calling card John Constantine left in his jeans pocket the last time they met. That was unfortunate, and Dick was stuck at the manor for two days because he couldn’t really go out as Nightwing and bring along a table with him.

“I’m calling Zatanna,” Bruce says, and honestly, he really should give her a gift basket or two because he’s had to call her for magic-related incidents like this nine times already this year, and it’s only June.

“Wait,” Clark says, suddenly at Bruce’s side, gripping his wrist.

“Why?” Bruce asks, his eyes narrowing as Clark shifts his weight from one foot to another. He looks to the other Clark, still standing off to the side, eyes dark and shoulders squared with purpose.

“Mxyzptlk’s spells never last long anyway,” he says, shrugging. “We could be doing something better with our time.”

Bruce glares, though it’s more half-hearted than anything. “Really, Clark?”

“Really, Bruce,” Clark says, and then there are hands on Bruce’s shoulders, gently massaging, working out the kinks in his back. It makes Bruce let out a quiet sigh, makes him arch his neck and close his eyes, lean into Clark’s touch.

There’s another set of hands on his torso, traversing his chest and his ribs and the bones jutting out of his hips until they get to his slacks, one palm rubbing his crotch slowly, almost agonizingly so.

“Does that feel good?” Clark says, and Bruce isn’t even sure which of one them it is, but it doesn’t matter anyway. They’re both Clark.

“Yes,” Bruce breathes, his voice breaking at the last minute because there’s a tongue licking into his ear and another into his belly button.

“You should see yourself, Bruce,” Clark murmurs against the skin just above Bruce’s waistband, and then he catches the zipper between his teeth, pulls it down until there’s enough room for him to mouth at the line of Bruce’s cock.

“You should _taste_ yourself,” Clark whispers against Bruce’s jaw, and then his tongue is in Bruce’s mouth, his kiss unforgiving.

Bruce groans against Clark’s mouth, bucks his hips against it.

“Stop teasing,” he says when he pauses to breathe, even though it feels like it’s _too much_ , even though he thinks he’s probably not going to last long if Clark does as he asks.

Clark hums, and then Bruce’s underwear is pushed out of the way, his neck littered in bruising, open-mouthed kisses and his cock wrapped in the heat of Clark’s mouth.

“I wish I were down there instead, sucking your cock. You always taste so good, Bruce,” Clark murmurs against his jaw. “You’re always so good for me.”

“Take your suit off,” Bruce says, and then there’s teeth grazing against the head of his cock, sending waves of pleasure and pain up his spine, distracting him.

Suddenly, there’s a cock pushing against his hand, another against his leg, a tongue tracing the underside of his cock, another pushing into his mouth, a hand gripping his hip and at the base of his cock, resting against the back of his head and curled over his own as he tugs at Clark’s cock.

“You’re doing so well, Bruce.”

Clark sucks, and Bruce can’t see him, but he can imagine the way Clark’s cheeks hollow out, can feel the way Clark hums onto his cock.

“You’d probably take both of our cocks so well, wouldn’t you?”

Bruce pulls a little harder on Clark’s cock, thumbs at the head as he moans against Clark’s hair.

“These spells usually last for 24 hours, don’t they? Then we have plenty of time to do plenty of things to you.”

Clark swallows around his cock, sucks onto the junction between his neck and his shoulder and it’s too much. It’s _too much_.

Bruce comes, and it’s Clark’s name on his lips, Clark’s mouth still wrapped around his softening cock.

“Let me taste him,” Clark says, leaning down as the other Clark pulls away from Bruce’s cock. Their lips meet in an open-mouthed kiss, sloppy enough that some of Bruce’s come dribbles down their chins. Their cocks are still hard, smearing pre-come onto their stomachs. Bruce finds it’s a little bit harder to breathe.

“Take me to bed,” Bruce says.

“Are you sure?” one Clark asks when they part, his lips turned upwards in a small smile. “I could fuck you on the Batmobile. We’ve never done that before.”

“Wouldn’t you like that?” the second Clark says as the other Clark sucks on the inside of Bruce’s thigh. “You could even suck me off. It could probably take the weight.”

Bruce swallows. He doesn’t think it’ll take too long for him to get hard again. “There’s lube in—”

“In your bedside drawer. I know,” Clark says, already holding up the bottle of lube.

Bruce parts his lips, takes a deep breath. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

Clark laughs, presses another kiss onto the back of Bruce’s knee, and then they’re downstairs, Bruce already bent over the hood of the Batmobile with a hand on his hip and another on his ass, teasing. Clark is perched against the front of the Batmobile, legs spread wide and his cock pressing against Bruce’s cheek.

“Will you be thinking of this the next time you take her out?” Clark asks, pushing a finger into Bruce, slowly, surely, until it’s up to his knuckle.

Bruce grunts. “Thinking of what? We haven’t done anything yet.”

“Smartass,” Clark says, almost fondly. “Now suck my cock, will you?”

Bruce does, takes the head of Clark’s cock between his lips, lets his teeth scrape against Clark’s skin. He tongues at the slit just as Clark pushes another finger into him, spreading him further apart. It’s still not enough, and so Bruce pushes back, demands for more without having to say so.

“Don’t be greedy, Bruce.” And Clark doesn’t relent, continues to fuck Bruce too slowly, too gently. Even so, Bruce is hard again, probably getting pre-come on the hood of the Batmobile. He’s probably going to have to clean that up himself later, save Alfred the trouble. “At least make him come first.”

Bruce moans, takes more of Clark’s cock into his mouth until it hits the back of his throat. He runs his tongue against the underside of Clark’s cock, swallows around the head, pulls away, over and over, building a rhythm he knows Clark likes, knows gets Clark off the fastest.

“Is he being good?” Clark asks, curling his fingers inside Bruce.

“He’s perfect,” the other Clark breathes, tangling his fingers in Bruce’s hair, cradling his head like he’s something precious.

“You hear that, Bruce? You’re perfect,” Clark says, and then he’s pushing a third finger into Bruce, working harder at opening him up.

Bruce groans, wants to get this over with. He sucks even harder at Clark’s cock, drags his teeth against the vein on the underside of Clark’s cock as he pulls away and swirls his tongue around the head.

He looks up at Clark, licks almost timidly at the head, says, “I want you to come, Clark,” before he goes back in hard, takes Clark’s cock into his mouth until he’s nosing at the hair at its base.

Clark does come, and Bruce pulls away, just enough that his mouth is wrapped loosely around the head of Clark’s cock and his come is pooling in Bruce’s mouth and dribbling down his chin.

“Perfect,” Clark says when he’s done, sliding down so that he’s under Bruce, supporting him. Clark’s hand is now wrapped around his cock, jerking him off, the other cupping his face as Clark licks him clean.

Bruce almost forgets that there’s three of them. That is, until the fingers inside him disappear.

He whines, pushes his hips back, turns his head towards the other Clark, the one who isn’t peppering him with kisses, sated and content under him. “Clark? Fuck me?”

Clark smiles, settles a hand on his hip, rubs his cock against the cleft of Bruce’s ass. “Yes, dear,” he says, and then he’s finally, _finally_ pushing his cock inside Bruce, filling him up, pushing him further into the other Clark’s embrace.

They stay that way for a few moments—Clark buried inside Bruce, Clark pressing gentle kisses onto Bruce’s skin, Clark rubbing a thumb over Bruce’s hip, so gently that Bruce could almost believe he wouldn’t be able to break bone.

Clark starts off slow, rocks shallowly into Bruce, letting him get used to his cock. Bruce doesn’t need much time.

“I can handle it,” he says. “Harder, Clark.”

Clark grunts, pulls his cock out almost all the way only to push back into Bruce, hard.

“Harder,” Bruce repeats, gritting his teeth. He clenches his ass to make his point, feels almost too satisfied when Clark moans and starts to fuck into him earnestly.

Bruce grunts and breathes into Clark’s mouth, fucks into Clark’s hand. He pushes back, meets Clark’s thrusts with as much force as he can handle even with his knees trembling from exertion.

Clark’s whispering sweet nothings into his skin, telling him he’s perfect, telling him that he’s always _so good_. Sometimes, Clark slips, tells Bruce _I love you_ and kisses him too tenderly. It shouldn’t make Bruce feel so warm, but it does. It always has.

_Thank you,_ Bruce wants to say. Instead, he puts an arm around Clark’s neck, pulls him closer.

_I don’t deserve you,_ Bruce wants to say. Instead, he rolls his hips, revels in the sound of Clark moaning behind him.

When Clark comes, Bruce follows shortly after.

_I love you too,_ Bruce wants to say.

“Now will you take me to bed?” Bruce says instead.

He can feel Clark’s smile pressed against his cheek, can feel Clark’s breath on the back of his neck as Clark laughs.

“Tired?” Clark asks. “I guess we wore wore you out, huh?”

Bruce grumbles, but he wraps both arms around Clark’s neck, burrows himself further into Clark’s chest.

“What was that?” Clark says, teasing.

“There are two of you,” Bruce mutters, just a little bit indignant. “Having one of you is already a pain in the ass.”

“Literally,” Clark says, wiggling his eyebrows.

Bruce tries to glare, except he feels too content, wants nothing more but to sleep surrounded by Clark.

“Take me to bed,” Bruce repeats, because they have to stop being difficult sometime today.

They finally relent, tucking Bruce safely between them before they carry him up to Bruce’s bedroom, careful not to go too fast.

“I think this is the first time I’ve actually seen you this sleepy. Or willing to sleep anyway,” Clark says, brushing away a few stray hairs sticking to Bruce’s forehead.

“We should do this more often,” the other Clark says, just as he settles himself behind Bruce, nosing at the back of Bruce’s neck.

“You are not asking Mxyzptlk to do this again,” Bruce says firmly, his tone leaving no room for arguments. But of course, Clark is Clark, and he will always be there to challenge Bruce.

“He’s using his Batman voice,” Clark mock-whispers, which Bruce is just going to ignore for now.

“Can we at least send him flowers for his trouble?” Clark asks.

Bruce sighs, lets himself smile. “Fine. But it has to be anonymous. He can’t go around thinking you actually like him.”

“I mean he’s _okay_ , right?”

Bruce snorts, pretends to be asleep instead of responding. He hears Clark whisper _good night_ , feels Clark press a kiss on his forehead, and he knows that they’re alright.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on [tumblr](http://connerkent.tk/)!!


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